


Whispers In The Rain

by Mysenia



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Coming of Age, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-11 21:46:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4453544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mysenia/pseuds/Mysenia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles was young, he and his mother shared a secret. When she died he was the only one who knew the secret she carried to the grave and now it was his burden to carry alone. As the years carried on the lessons she taught him never grew faint but the realities of what he had to face were more extreme than she'd led him to believe. He wondered if it was different for her, growing up where she did, the pull pulsing in the world around her instead of this upheaval on his being the closer it neared to his birthday. Unfortunately for Stiles, he didn't understand the significance of the pull until it had him in its grips. Would he be able to stop before he took that final step?</p><p>~ ON INDEFINITE HOLD ~</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DenaCeleste](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DenaCeleste/gifts).



> I was going to wait to post this but my dear friend Dena has been through a rough couple of days and so I'm dedicating this to her. I love you sweetie and I hope this helps cheer you up!
> 
> I will be updating tags as I go.

_“You cannot let anyone know.”_

Those were the words that haunted Stiles as he slept and whispered along his senses while he was awake. A mantra he drilled into his head over and over. He could never forget. Never breathe a word of his secret to anyone. His mother had lived her entire life without telling her husband, she went to the grave with her secret. Stiles was expected to do the same. 

At first, when he was young, he thought it was a game. A secret joke he shared with his mummy. As the years dragged on he learned quite clearly it wasn’t a joke but at least he had someone who shared his burden, until she was no more. 

Though his dad never knew, they were family and so Stiles felt safe. Not safe enough to ever tell his father, for if his mother lived her entire life never uttering a word to the man who was her husband, Stiles couldn’t betray her memory and slip up. 

It became a drain, walking around with the enormity of who he was planted firmly on his shoulders. Each step weighed more than he could handle but that was life - or so he was told - and so he continued on even when it would be so much easier to disappear. 

He could never fully be himself but he had moments, snippets where he could breathe, and he savoured those for the rare gems they were. Stepping out into the rain, the water a cleanse to his soul, he cried the truth of his existence to the world. He felt alive but he was careful to keep his exuberance to a minimum. Lest he be caught.

* * *

“Rain. Again. You would think we didn’t live in California at the rate we’re getting the wet stuff.” Scott complained to Stiles. 

It had been storming nearly a week, the water from the sky persevering. It misted, it bucketed, it trickled - the point is, it kept raining. Stiles was the happiest he had been in long months, the wet weather soothing to him in a way that nothing else was.

“What’s a little water Scotty!” Stiles couldn’t help but enthuse. “Besides, soon enough we’ll be bone dry again. We need to be thankful for this rain while he have it.”

Scott shot Stiles an unimpressed look. “Sure.” Scott sighed morosely one more time. “Anyway, did you want a ride home? I’ve got my mom’s car today and I know your jeep is in the shop.”

Stiles had a hard time pulling his gaze away from the window to look at Scott. “Nah man, you know me, I like walking in the rain.”

Scott shuddered. “You enjoy it dude. I like being dry and warm.”  
“Think of it this way, you can offer Kira a ride home and I won’t be third wheeling.” 

Stiles watched as Scott’s face lit up. His friend was so predictable, and after all the shit they had been through together, Stiles was ever grateful for it. He had a hard time keeping up his pretence at happiness, but it was made just a bit easier when he had a best friend who lived in a happy bubble.

“Bro! You’re the best” Scott pulled Stiles in for a quick hug before booking it out the front doors of the school just as he spotted Kira walking through the parking lot. Perfect timing. 

Stiles took a moment to watch the two as they bumbled their way through a cutesy conversation. There was blushing on both sides. Stiles found it ridiculously endearing. 

Taking a deep breath, Stiles centered himself. He could feel his excitement to be out in the rain buzzing just beneath his skin and he had to mentally prepare himself. It was times like these that his control was the most tenuous. When his true self was closest to the surface. He had to tread carefully, and having his mind firmly centered was just one of the numerous precautions he took.

Pushing open the doors, Stiles stepped out into the rain and tipped his head back. He let the water run through his hair and over clothes, his eyelashes clumping together. It was such a relief to feel the water coursing over his body and he didn’t care that he would soon be soaked. 

He only let himself relish it for a moment before starting off for home. It looked odd to be enjoying the rain so much, even the biggest enthusiasts were sick of it days ago, so he walked on, not wanting to draw attention to himself. 

He took the long way home, walking through suburbia before he felt it safe enough to slip into the forest, the tree branches acting as natural umbrellas. There was no lightning or thunder so Stiles felt safe enough under the cover of the foliage. The soft pitter patter sound of the rain hitting the leaves leeching the last of the tension from his shoulders. 

He breathed in deep, the mossy earth smell floating up to his nose. If he could bottle this scent, he would. The Earth being revitalized through the water brought a smile to his face. 

It was rare that the weather cooperated enough to bring forth such abundance, at least here in Beacon Hills. It wasn’t as dry as other parts of California, but dry enough that Stiles longed for the rainy seasons.

He walked through the forest, loosely following the path, as he let his senses flow. The tittering of the birds overhead and the squeaking of the mice below, he took it all in and reveled in the beauty of it. 

As he walked along, he could sense his spirit being drawn to a specific spot and let his wandering take him there. He stopped frequently to tip the water off the leaves just to feel the water run over his fingers. His hands glistened, reflecting everything in the tiny droplets. 

Each step he squished through mud and he longed to take his shoes off and walk bare-footed. Wanted to feel the mud between his toes, connecting with the earth through the pores on his feet. Maybe another time. 

He could feel himself getting closer, closer to the spot that tugged on his soul like the sun to the flowers. He let the feeling tug him, stepping around trees and over roots like it was second nature. 

Here, in the cover of the forest, Stiles’ natural grace came to the fore. He was clumsy but not because he didn’t know his body. He was very aware of himself. No, he was clumsy because he had to keep himself away from his natural habitat and it set his senses reeling. Always being tugged to follow where his heart wanted to run, but pulling himself back at the last moment. 

He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, enjoying the drops of water that dripped onto his face off the branches overhead. Even with his eyes closed he never put a foot wrong. If only everyone could see him now, elegant and fluid. Alas, that was not to be. 

A twig snapping off to his left slapped him back to the present and he whipped his head to see what it was. A squirrel tittered at him and he breathed a sigh of relief. He’d forgotten himself and could have very easily put himself in grave danger. Giving his head a shake, ignoring that pulsing call deep in his bones, he turned away and headed for home. He couldn’t allow himself to forget and the forest was a sweet aphrodisiac to his soul.

Constantly calling for him, the forest was every dangerous thing his mother had ever warned him against. He hated that he couldn’t just hide away in the forest forever but it was not big enough to hide away for eternity. Especially with the supernatural crawling heavily around, it was only a miracle that he had not been caught out.

It was only as he determinedly walked nearer to the edge of the forest that Stiles realised how far he had let himself be pulled into the dark recesses of the forest. Stepping past the outermost edge of the forest was like taking off his most comforting sweater and now he was left bare. 

He shivered, but not from the cold. Pulling his jacket closer he let the last of the rain take away the feeling of wrongness that being out of the forest caused. It didn’t take long to make it home and Stiles sighed as he walked in the door.

Stiles trudged up the stairs, stripping off his wet clothes as he went. He contemplated showering to warm himself up but the thought of washing away the water that was his very essence didn’t hold much appeal, instead he rubbed a towel through his hair and changed into sweats and a comfortable tee shirt.

Sitting himself down at his desk, Stiles opened his laptop and gazed out the window. If he didn’t know himself better he’d say he was beginning to look like a lost boy - constantly gazing morosely out windows, as if in deep thought. He laughed to himself. The only deep thoughts he was having at the moment was what to eat for dinner.


	2. In a Trance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Stilinski's share a moment and Stiles runs into a reanimated wolf. Thankfully Allison is there to ground him.

When Stiles woke up the next morning, he really had expected the rain to be gone. The fact that the sky was still grey, the rain bouncing off the roof, was a welcoming sight to him but it concerned him. 

There had been too much darkness lately, no hint of a sun to bring about the happiness usually ever present in his closest friends. While he welcomed the rain, the dark clouds, even the lightning and thunder, he knew they were labouring under the weather. He wasn’t asking for something bad to happen but it itched at his skin, the feeling that there was doom just beyond the next flash of lightning or clap of thunder.

Stiles sighed and pushed himself up, deciding that it was best if he got up and actually started getting ready for the day. He couldn’t let himself be swayed by thoughts of potential disaster when nothing as of yet had happened - thankfully. 

He heard his father walking about downstairs and that decided him, aiming for the stairs instead of the shower when he left his bedroom. He bounded down the stairs, wanting to catch the Sheriff before he left for the day. 

“Hey Daddio!” Stiles accidentally shouted when he saw his father. Though he dreaded what the weather was doing to his friends, he couldn’t deny the happiness it brought him.

“Stiles. You’re looking cheerful this morning.” His dad smiled at him, a slight smile gracing his face. “Just like your mother. She always did love a rainy morning.”

“Rainy mornings bring about sun shiny afternoons!” Stiles quoted his long gone mother enthusiastically. 

The Stilinski men rarely talked about that bright spot of their life that died too soon, but when they did they always made sure it was happy memories. She had been their joy and they wouldn’t tarnish her memory by bringing up sad memories. Though it hurt to talk of her, they still made sure to only speak goodness. 

“That it does, supposedly.” The Sheriff laughed. Stiles chuckled along with him. Claudia’s prediction of a sunny afternoon rarely rang true but her optimism never failed to make her husband smile.

Stiles had been of a mind with his mother, still was, that a rainy day was the best kind of day, but the Sheriff, like every other being on the planet, tended to be happier in the sun. So they gave the Sheriff the optimism he needed while hoarding their secret love to themselves. Though of course the Sheriff knew, it was hard to hide every reaction, but he just summed it up to an adorable quirk that his wife and son shared.

“Oh, intentionally going for the bran?” Stiles smiled happily. It had taken quite a bit of effort on his part to make healthy options a habit for the Sheriff, it was still an ongoing goal.

“I,” The Sheriff glanced down at his bowl, as if surprised at what he was eating. “Yeah. It tastes good mixed in with the cheerios.” He muttered, as if admitting the healthy option tasted good was an ill omen. Stiles hid his smirk and grabbed himself a bowl instead.

It wasn’t often he got to share breakfast with his father, though sadly it was the meal they shared most often. Stiles pushed that thought to the back of his head, he was happy and there was only room for happy thoughts in his head right now.

Stiles munched away on his cereal, glancing at the clock and realising it was later than his father usually went in to work. “What time are you heading in to work?”

“Well I was thinking I’d drive you to school today. I know your car is in the shop and you had to walk home in the rain yesterday. So, what do you say? And I’ll even pick you up after school.” His father smiled at him, a slightly hopeful look in his eye.

Stiles knew that look well, the _I feel guilty that I’ve been neglecting you_ look and _this is an olive branch_. Stiles knew his father tried and that it was easier for him to work and ignore the fact that he was an absent father, than to own up to it. He felt a lump form in his throat.

As much as he hated that they didn’t have a close relationship, he needed the olive branches as much as his father needed to give them out. Even though he wanted to walk to school in the rain, he knew he wouldn’t say no to his father. Wouldn’t say no to a few more minutes spent in the man’s presence, even though what he really wanted was days and weeks spent just the two of them hanging out.

“As long as I get to sit in the front!” Stiles snarked at his father. The Sheriff just rolled his eyes.

“Yeah yeah, now get going. You need to shower before school because you smell like you fell in a well or something.” The Sheriff mimed plugging his nose.

Stiles stuck out his tongue. “Funny!”

He grabbed up his bowl and his father’s and put them in the sink before hopping up the stairs. He had just enough time for a shower if he hopped in now and his father was right. Due to his little jaunt into the forest yesterday, he was smelling a little muddy. 

When he stepped under the hot spray, Stiles felt himself relax. Talking to his father always left him tense, even the simple conversations. He let the idea that it might be because of his secret tumble around his brain, but he reasoned, there really wasn’t much he could do about it. 

It was silly perhaps, but Stiles still felt like it wasn’t his secret to tell. He was living it, breathing it, his very essence really, but it was so much a part of his mother too. He was able to be close to her because of it and if he ever let that out, revealed it, it would be like giving her away. Even the thought of it gripped his heart and had him sweating over it. It just was not going to happen.

A knock on the bathroom door startled him out of his thoughts and he raced to turn off the water, finally becoming aware that he’d been in the shower perhaps a tad too long. Unfortunately that meant he had to rush through getting dressed and racing to get into the cruiser and to school on time, which left no time for talking. 

When they pulled up to the school Stiles was grateful when his father shouted out the window at him, “Don’t forget I’ll be picking you up after school!”. 

Stiles smiled and threw a wave over his shoulder, nodding that he’d heard. He had no time to say anything else as the warning bell was ringing and he had just enough time to race into class. Allison gave him a crooked smile as his chair nearly collided with hers in his effort to sit down as quickly as possible. 

“Cutting it a little close there.” She giggled at him, handing over a pen and paper so Stiles didn’t have to go searching through his bag. She was a real life saver.

The teacher spoke up before Stiles could reply, so he just mouthed thank you to her and tuned in to the teacher. 

As the morning went by, Stiles felt a buzzing along his skin. It felt like something was trying to push it’s way out of his body and had him really antsy. He twitched and fiddled more than usual and it caused every one of his friends to cast him glances. He could only shrug in response. His guess was as good as theirs as to what was driving him crazy.

When the bell signalling lunch finally rang Stiles was out of his seat and racing down the hallway before anyone else had a chance to move. He needed to be outside, it felt like he could not breathe. Pushing through the doors that led to the lacrosse field, his feet kept pushing him closer and closer to the forest. 

Like a hook had sunk it’s way into his chest, he was being reeled closer and closer. All thoughts fled his brain as he zeroed in on the forest, the dark recesses calling to him. Singing through his veins with the urgency to submerge himself into the parts unknown. 

No one was following him or calling his name and that was good. _Good_. He needed to be alone. No one could see. This was _his secret_. 

He tripped over a rock and he felt himself falling, but his ability to care about it seemed pushed all the way to the back of his brain. He could not even feel himself falling, viewed it in an abstract way. He barely brought his arms up to brace for impact.

Strong arms wrapped around his torso just as his fingers flirted with the grass and it snapped him back to reality. He jolted, whipping his head back in surprise and nailing his rescuer in the chin.

“Holy mother of fuck!” Stiles groaned. His rescuer hummed behind him.

His head was throbbing where it had made contact with the solid jaw and he brought a hand up to rub at it as he was set on his feet. He turned around to thank and apologize to his saviour only to come face to face with the last person he expected, especially around the school.

“What, no thank you?” Peter smirked at him.

“Should I be concerned that you’re reverting? Or perhaps pulling a Derek? Do I need to inform your nephew that you’re picking up his bad habit of creeping around the school like a big creep?” Stiles snarked back. He did not want to thank this man at all, wolf, whatever. 

Peter tutted at him. “My dear Stiles, no. I just happened to be asked to be here and as I was waiting I saw you beelining straight for the forest with a zombie-like singled minded focus. Care to explain what that was all about?” 

“Yeah, I was trying out my zombiewolf act. Didn’t like it so much.” Stiles deflected, though not well enough as Peter eyed him speculatively. “I’m just going to.” Stiles gestured going back to the school. “Don’t want to get soaked and all that.” He turned around, glad for the excuse of walking away.

“Funny. The rain didn’t seem to be bothering you a moment ago. And that sweet little heart of yours seems to disagree about wanting to get wet.” Peter leered at Stiles’ back. 

Stiles shuddered but didn’t comment. Too close, way too close. He jogged back towards the school, trying to push what had just happened to the back of his mind. He didn’t have time to think about it or analyze it just at that moment. He didn’t turn around once until he made it back to the school, opening the doors to safety. Only then did he glance back and see Peter still standing there, watching him. _Not good_.

* * *

Stiles stumbled his way to the cafeteria, giving himself a shake before heading in and towards the table where everyone was seated. He didn’t grab any food, stomach still in knots over what had happened. _Way too close_.

He thumped into the seat beside Allison and everyone paused to look at him. He shrugged and shook his head, the clear symbol for, _I absolutely don’t want to talk about it_. Scott kept looking at him long after the others resumed their conversations. Sometimes, his best friend chose the most inconvenient times to tune into his life.

Stiles tried to convey that he was fine, but as of late their eye-language had been failing and thus Scott merely looked confused. Stiles huffed in frustration and snagged Allison’s water, needing the distraction. He took a long sip, holding it in his mouth with bulging cheeks before finally gulping it down. 

When Stiles placed her water back down, Allison cast him a side glance to which Stiles shrugged and quirked a brow at her. She nodded. Stiles felt relieved that at least someone understood that he was okay, if a bit freaked out, without having to voice it out loud. 

She nudged his shoulder all while continuing her conversation with Lydia and Stiles took a moment to just appreciate how wonderful she was. He had been sad when it hadn’t worked out between her and Scott, but Stiles had gained a new friend in Allison, a comrade in arms really - their dads both dealt in dangerous jobs - and he felt he could relate to her in a way he hadn’t been able to relate to anyone else, even Scott. Their relationships with their fathers were quite similar and now with the dead mom aspect, well they were regular poster children for anxiety disorders but they managed, it helped that they had each other.

Stiles could still feel that pull in his chest, and the longer he sat in the cafeteria the more pressing the feeling became. He started tapping his leg, his hands grabbing up Allison’s water bottle to fiddle with. 

Stiles grimaced when he felt a hand on his thigh, stopping his movement. Allison’s eyes held only concern and Stiles was grateful that she wasn’t voicing her concern. He honestly did not need any attention right now.

Allison pushing away from the table startled him but he accepted it when she reached out a hand and hauled him up.

“You guys continue on, we’re taking a walk.” Allison smiled at the entire table, her eyes telling everyone to stay seated. Stiles was really going to have to learn how to do that.

She pulled him through the maze of tables and chairs until they reached the door leading to the outside and Allison dragged him out. When the air hit his face Stiles gasped, taking great gulps of air. He hadn’t realised he wasn’t breathing fully until he stepped out into the fresh air.

Allison let him have a few moments to gather himself before cocking her head at him. “Better?”

He nodded, relieved. He couldn’t quite find words just yet, but she did not seem to need them. She looped her arm through his and lazily pulled him along, the hurriedness of the cafeteria seemingly long gone. 

It was only misting out now but even so Allison didn’t seem to mind. She tipped her head back, enjoying the soft caress of water against her face after the heat of the cafeteria. Stiles followed suit. He took deep breaths, his chest expanding and filling with the freshness. 

His chest ached, as if the hook had sunk deeper, and Stiles rubbed at his chest hoping to soothe the pain. Being outside helped, it seemed the cover of the school had exacerbated whatever had a hold of him, forcing it to anchor itself further and pull harder. At least outside the jitters stopped. 

“I know you don’t want to talk about it, but are you at least alright?” Allison queried after they’d been walking for a few minutes.

Stiles sighed. “I want to say yes, but I really don’t know. Being inside just has me all fidgety.”

Allison laughed, her dimples peeking through. “I noticed.”

“Thanks, you know, for getting me out of there.” Stiles bumped her, causing the both of them to sway to the side. Allison hummed in response.

They talked no more but continued to walk, circling the school to walk off Stiles’ excess energy until the bell rang. Stiles glanced around periodically for Peter, but the wolf never showed his face. Stiles wondered if the wolf was watching, lurking in the shadows as his nephew was wont to do, but he figured if Peter wasn’t bothering them then there was no reason to worry about the wolf, at least for now.

Stiles knew that later on he’d worry over what the wolf had seen, and what he thought about it, but as the bell rang to signal the end of lunch, Stiles found those worries easily slipping to the back of his mind.


	3. Dark Embrace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The itch burns at Stiles' skin until he can no longer ignore it.

When school let out Stiles meandered his way through the hallways, saddened that the rain had finally petered out. The sun had made an effort to burst through the clouds and for the duration of last period, the sun had been shining directly into Stiles’ last period classroom. It was warm and comforting but he found himself already missing the rain and grey clouds. 

He pushed open the front doors of the school, getting jostled by all the students rushing to get out into the warmth, whooping their joy. Stiles felt like grimacing at their antics. The sun was so draining. He looked up and felt momentarily blinded, before his eyes adjusted and he found his father waiting in the cruiser just out front. It was a welcomed sight. 

He walked quickly to the car, his father pushing open the passenger door so all he had to do was slip in and shut the door behind him. He buckled up and waited for his father to pull away from the curb. He slumped in his seat, trying to find the best angle that blocked the light from hitting his face, even with the visor down it didn’t help much. 

“Here.” His father cleared his throat at him and he looked over to see a hand holding out the regulation police hat. He accepted it gratefully and stuffed it onto his head. 

He liked the sun and the warm weather, but transitioning from one to the other always drained him. A good nights rest would fix him up, but that was a ways off. 

“Thanks.” He mumbled from underneath his protection. His father just patted his leg before putting the car into first and driving out of the parking lot. 

Thankfully the ride from school to home was a short one and in no time at all Stiles was safely ensconced in the darkness of his bedroom. He was just curled up on his bed, unwilling to move, when his father knocked on his door.

His father peeked his head in when he grunted an acknowledgement. “Brought you up some juice kiddo.” He placed the juice on Stiles’ bedside table. “ You’re just like your mom after a storm, you know. The only difference is she would hide away in the basement. You two used to build forts down there to hide away in.” He smiled, caught up in the memory.

The reminder helped to push through the fog that seemed to have taken over Stiles’ brain. “Yeah, I kind of remember that. Actually, I remember the giggling when you would come stumbling down the stairs with a flashlight because mum had unscrewed the bulb.” Stiles smirked.

Those had been good times. Just more things that Stiles and his mother had done together, their happy time. Stiles glanced up at his father, a lump forming in his throat when his father didn’t immediately crack a smile at the memory. 

He let the smile drop from his face. It was hard to be happy about the good memories when it only made it glaringly obvious how distant the two of them were now. Years of missed opportunities piling up until they found themselves here, the happiness connecting them a woman long gone from their lives. Stiles cleared his throat.

“Thanks, for the juice.” Stiles clarified when the Sheriff glanced at him. “Are you done work for the day?” Stiles sincerely hoped the answer would be yes.

“No.” Stiles tried not to let his disappointment show. It was sadly easy to achieve. “Haven’t finished processing the papers for the new deputy yet and Larry slipped walking across his lawn today to get to his car and hurt his back, so I’m covering his shift for a couple of hours. Tara will cover the second half of the shift, so I won’t be home too late.” 

Stiles smiled at his father, though he’s not sure it reached his eyes. “Well, if you leave me money for pizza I’ll order meat lovers and even leave you a piece.”

“How magnanimous of you, to leave me a piece of my favourite pizza using the money I’m giving you.” At least it got a laugh out of the Sheriff. He reached into his wallet and handed Stiles some money before patting Stiles on the shoulder. “You behave. I don’t want to be receiving any phone calls about you.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Sure sure, whatever you say Pops.” 

The Sheriff fixed him with a stern look before rolling his eyes and heading out the door.

“Bye!” Stiles yelled after his father.

“See you later.” The Sheriff yelled back. 

Stiles laid back down, listening to the sound of the door opening and closing, followed soon after by the roar of the engine. He listened as the car backed out of the driveway and drove off. He listened as his heart thudded in his chest, the pain of goodbyes flowing through his veins as he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Stiles woke up with sticky eyes and a dry mouth, disoriented as to how he found himself in bed. It trickled in slowly, the sun, how drained he felt. Getting into bed, the overwhelming sadness that he just didn’t know how to communicate with his father a glum send off to his dreams. 

He hated this feeling, sluggish and heavy. Sitting up and rolling his shoulders to ease the pressure between his shoulder blades, letting his head droop and breathing in deep. He glanced at the clock, it’s bright numbers exclaiming it to be 8pm. He’d been asleep for quite some time, and he despaired of being able to fall asleep later since his nap had been almost five hours long.

The only pressing thought was food as his stomach grumbled loudly at him and he grabbed up his phone. It was quick work calling in the extra large meatlovers and Stiles made his way downstairs to slouch on the couch as he waited for the food to be delivered. 

It took some time for his brain to reboot, for the quietness of the house to seep through to his consciousness. He glanced around, for the first time realising that all the lights were off. He got up and walked about the house, flicking on the porch light and the kitchen light. He flicked on the living room light on his way to the stairs, jogging up to check in his father’s room to see if maybe the Sheriff had been too tired to wake him up when he’d got home. The room was quiet, the barely there light from outside the only presence in the room. 

He sighed to himself and made his way back downstairs, picking up his phone to double check that he hadn’t missed any messages. Zero. Punching in speed dial one, he held the phone up to his ear. 

**_Ring ring ring. Ring ring ring. Ring ring ring. Click._ **

**_“You’ve reached Sheriff Stilinski’s phone. If this is an emergency, please dial 911. If this is Stiles, send me a text son. For all others, leave your name and number and I will get back to you as soon as I can.”_ **

**_Beep._ **

Stiles hung up. He flipped his phone in his hands, twisting and turning it, before eventually letting it fall to his lap. It hit his thigh and slid off, smacking the carpet and bouncing once. He looked at his phone, a mere armslength away if he leant down, and sighed. There was no pressing need for him to reach it, silence pressing in on him from all the scattered places of his mind.

The doorbell ringing caught him off guard and had him smacking his shin on the coffee table in startlement. He winced, quickly rubbing the sore spot in the hopes that it eased the sting - it didn’t do much. Pushing himself to his feet, Stiles shoved his hand into his pocket to grab up the money the Sheriff had left him as he made his way to the door. At least the pizza would be able to take his mind off one pressing matter, the hunger grumbling away in his stomach.

Stiles slammed the door closed again, or he would have if the person standing on his porch hadn’t stopped the door. He was too wide open, too lonely to deal with him and come out on top.

“That’s no way to treat a guest Stiles. What would your mother have said about that?” Peter tisked at him. 

Stiles straightened his shoulders, deciding an attack was the best way to get him gone fast. “Probably the same thing your wife would have said, which is nothing, because they’re dead. Their past thoughts bare no meaning on our lives now.” Stiles knew he’d struck true when Peter couldn’t hide his flinch.

Stiles waited for Peter to growl, to turn around and storm off his porch. Evidently that was not going to happen though, Stiles found out, when in the next instant Peter pushed through and step passed him. Stiles huffed but otherwise made no move to stop him, knowing he’d just end up bruised if he tried to physically bar Peter.

“What do you want Peter?” Stiles gave in and asked.

“After that little display in how utterly lacking you are in manners, I’m going to make you wait. Also, you’re going to feed me. That pizza smells mighty nice.” Peter sneered at him.

Stiles didn’t have a moment to ask him what Peter was talking about when a cough behind him alerted him to a presence at his open door. Stiles startled with a yelp and managed to stifle his swearing, though going from Peter’s chuckle the wolf had heard him anyway. He’d been so caught up in watching Peter that he hadn’t heard a car pull up or doors closing. Stiles tried to give the girl a smile that felt more like a grimace as he handed her the crumpled up bill. She handed him the pizza, which Peter immediately relieved him of and reached into her pouch to grab him his change.

“Keep the change.” Stiles hoped his smile came across more genuine this time. She smiled, told him thanks and walked off to her car, so Stiles figured he hadn’t been that rude. Maybe the tip helped.

He closed the door and lingered a moment, staring at the faded white paint covering the wood. He could hear Peter in the kitchen, pulling out plates and glasses, making himself comfortable. Peter’s presence in the house soothed that loneliness in Stiles though he would never tell the wolf. He sighed, wondering how long he was going to be stuck with the wolf now that he’d only managed to piss him off, not send him storming off in anger. 

“The pizza is getting colder every minute you stand there. Are you coming to eat?” Peter threw his voice down the hall, irritation and exasperation colouring his voice. Stiles turned around to glare at him but the wolf was nowhere in sight. 

Stiles marched himself to the kitchen, grumbling audibly when he saw Peter seated at his kitchen table, relaxed, his presence oozing out a comfortableness that stung. Stiles didn’t feel that comfortable in his own house most days, unless he was curled up on his bed. 

Peter gestured to the seat across him where a place had been set, waiting until Stiles sat himself down to grab a piece of pizza from the box. Manners. Stiles rolled his eyes.

He didn’t want the wolf in his house but he couldn’t deny his hunger and the pizza was right there, so Stiles grabbed himself a couple of slices. They ate in silence, Stiles looking at his plate so as to not have to converse with Peter. He knew it was just pushing off the inevitable but he didn’t want the good food ruined. 

“Speaking of manners, you need to leave two slices for my Dad.” Stiles eyed the wolf as he reached in to grab the third last slice.

He wanted to have it, to snatch it out of the wolf’s grasp but he knew it would be a losing battle and his wits weren’t up to a repartee just at that moment. He sighed as he finished off his last slice, grabbing up his empty glass to get some water. He felt so dry, his energy levels depleted. The nap had obviously been more harmful than good since he felt like he’d barely slept a wink.

“Be a dear and grab some for me as well.” Peter’s voice called from behind him.

Stiles had images of flinging the glass of water he had in his hands at the wolf, soaking him and running him off. Unfortunately he knew that wouldn’t be enough to get the wolf to leave him alone. Instead he clunked down his glass in front of the wolf and grabbed up the empty glass left on the table to grab himself some water.

“What’s the matter? Normally you’re so chatty.” The wolf observed.

“And you would know right? From all of those lengthy chats we always have whenever we hang out.” Stiles shot back, laughing mirthlessly. “Oh, that’s right. We don’t hang out. Why don’t you just kindly fuck off.” Stiles dropped himself down heavily into his chair. 

He felt the buzzing under his skin again, this time it itched. He wanted to scratch at it, pick away at it until the feeling left, but he didn’t want to draw the wolf’s attention to his unease. He tapped his foot and rolled his neck. 

The wolf’s eyes seemed drawn to his neck. “Your heart is racing.” A useless observation since Stiles knew his heart was racing, and he knew that meant Peter could hear it. Could probably see it from the way the wolf’s eyes seemed glued to his pulse. 

The itch intensified until it felt like needles were stabbing at him from beneath his skin. Stiles gasped, twitching his body in the hopes it would go away if he just ignored it long enough. He knew he was currently being scrutinized but all his attention was diverted inwards. 

A hand on his shoulder startled him and Stiles glanced at the appendage, watching in fascination as black crept up the veins. It was as if a soothing balm had been injected into his veins, the ache from the prickles fading in the light of Peter taking away the pain. The wolf said nothing as their eyes connected and held. Stiles wondered what was going through his mind. 

“How long has that been going on?” Peter asked as he took his hand away. Stiles instantly felt the loss as the itch started up again, though the intensity had faded quite a bit.

“That? Well that just started.” Stiles briefly wondered if his heart blipped because while it was true that the pain was a new thing, the buzzing wasn’t. 

The wolf merely squinted his eyes at Stiles before resuming his seat. Stiles wanted to thank him but he didn’t want to encourage this thing, whatever it was. Peter wasn’t the type to care about people, certainly not ones who had burned him alive - Stiles wondered why he was special, but that thought floated away quickly in the presence of his sudden overwhelming exhaustion. 

He felt his eyes closing, his body slumping down further in the seat. He vaguely registered his name being called but it was so far away. The welcoming arms of darkness beckoned him steadily closer, the itch fading the further he stepped into sleep’s embrace. He took a deep breath, the smell of earth and moisture calling to him one last time before he drifted off


	4. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sheriff Stilinski confesses something to Stiles.

Stiles became aware of his body in chunks. His feet were sweating, stuck under the blankets at the end of his bed. His legs were splayed wide, his boxers molded to his thighs due to the moisture clinging along his body. His stomach was bare, nipples peaking in the cold breeze flowing over his body. One arm drooped off the side of his bed, fingers numb - he took a moment to think about the fact that it felt like he didn’t have a hand, it spooked him. His other arm was plastered along the side of his head, stretched upwards.

He tried to blink open his eyes but there was a weight holding them down. It was cold and wet, drops of water dripping along the side of his face. Stiles tried to shake it off but his body was still asleep, ignoring the pushing of his brain to move. Stiles let out a frustrated groan. 

“You’re awake.” A relieved sounding voice said to his left.

The voice sounded familiar but Stiles honestly couldn’t place it in that moment. He tried moving again, this time his body responding with the pins and needles feeling erupting over his entire body. He tried to shake it away, pained panicked whimpers escaping this mouth.

“You’re okay, it’s okay.” The voice soothed as it came nearer. The person removed the weight from his eyes and Stiles blinked into the sudden brightness. His dad rubbed a hand through his hair. “Your fever finally broke.”

Stiles tried to understand what his dad was saying but he couldn’t even remember how he got to be in his bed. Stiles blinked, trying to focus. “Fever?”

“You’ve been running a fever all night, it seems it’s finally broken.” His dad sounded relieved. “You had me very worried.”

Stiles managed to glance around his room, taking in the seat pulled up beside his bed and his dad’s dishevelled uniform. “Were you here all night?” He croaked out.

The Sheriff sat down beside him on the bed and continued to run his hands through Stiles’ hair. It helped ease the pins and needles. “Well after I got your text last night I called Tara to my office to let her know I was going home. I hadn’t realised how late it was until you texted.”

“I texted you?” The last thing Stiles remembered was pizza.

“I’m not surprised you don’t remember. All you texted me was ‘Sick’ and nothing else, and you don’t normally complain about being sick so I got home as fast as I could. I found you tossing and turning in bed with a raging fever. I was worried but Melissa said a cold compress should help cool you down, and open windows to let in a fresh breeze.” 

Stiles could hear his dad’s voice wavering, edging with panic. He couldn’t believe he’d worried his dad that badly. Admittedly he hadn’t been sick since before his mom died, but a little fever never hurt anyone. “Dad?”

The Sheriff nudged him until Stiles wiggled over to make enough space for his dad. The man practically collapsed beside him, pulling Stiles closer until they were snuggled tight. It had been a long time since Stile had felt truly at home, at peace, anywhere and to have the feeling suddenly envelop him in his dad’s embrace had Stiles near tears. He tucked his head in close, tension floating out of his body that he hadn’t even known was there.

“I’m sorry Stiles.” His dad whispered into his ear, and it was all there; all the pain of years just existing together out in the open and healing wounds all thanks to three words. “We need to talk. There’s so much I have to tell you.”

“Dad this is the first time you’ve really hugged me in years, let me just enjoy it. Talking can wait.”

Perhaps if Stiles had been a little more coherent, a little more conscious to the words leaving his mouth, he wouldn’t have said quite what he did. He wouldn’t understand until later, when memories of this moment plagued him, why his dad gasped and tightened his grip around him. All Stiles knew in that moment were the feelings of comfort and safety surrounding him as he drifted back off to sleep.

He floated for a time, long forgotten memories coming to the forefront of his mind. Of him and his parents walking through the woods, chasing light beams, and splashing through the streams. That sense of belonging, brought forth by the comforting embrace of his father, conjuring up these memories.   
Stiles had forgotten how the forest had seemed more like home than the house they lived in did. How his mother had seemed to glow, growing in essence to her true self without revealing anything. Stiles had admired her for that, her ability to hide herself while still reveling in her natural surroundings. 

He used to dance after his mother, trying to catch the flitting fairies that only his eyes could see. His father would laugh in delight, enjoying the exuberance Stiles showed for the the woods. 

Stiles forgot how much time they used to spend in the forest where now they avoided it almost at all costs. It was only in his dreams that he remembered his father telling him the woods were off limits after his mother died. His young mind only thinking it was enforced as his father didn’t want the memory of his wife being brought back. As if an observer, Stiles was able to think that maybe that wasn’t the case. Maybe something more had forced his father to issue that rule. 

As with most dreams the thought got lost to the images flashing through his mind. Stiles tried to grasp the thought to ask his father later but then he found himself standing in front of the Nemeton and every other thought cleared from his mind. It pulsed in front of him. 

Stiles blinked and it was gone. His dreamscape faded away and he knew no more.

* * *

Waking up the second time was much different. Stiles felt squished into his bed, his face smooshed into his pillow as he was weighed down. A glance over his shoulder showed his father resting beside him, completely unaware to the fact the he was sleeping practically on top of his son. Stiles tried to roll out from under his dad but the man’s weight combined with the cocoon of blankets Stiles found himself in meant he was well and truly stuck.

“Dad.” Stiles groaned while shoving at the man. 

The Sheriff opened his eyes and looked at Stiles, seemingly taking everything in in a single glance. Stiles wished he had that ability but waking up was not his forte. The Sheriff pushed himself up and Stiles sighed out a quiet ‘Thank you’.

The Sheriff ran a hand through Stiles’ hair again and Stiles couldn’t help the smile that surfaced. He and his dad weren’t very tactile people, a pat on the back or shoulders with a hug here of there the extent of their contact. Stiles was more familiar with hugging Scott than he was his dad, which made all these little gestures all the more special when they happened. Though, while the cuddling was nice, Stiles didn’t want to suffocate.

“How are you feeling?” His dad asked as he ran a critical eye all along Stiles.

“Uhhhhh.” Stiles had to think about that for a moment. “Good. Great actually.” He’s not sure what caused him to get the fever but he felt better than he had in ages. 

“Good.” The Sheriff stood up. “I think food is in order. Toast?” He turned to ask Stiles.

“Mmnnnnnnyes.” Stiles mumbled out. He wanted more than just toast but at this point it was probably his best bet. “With peanut butter!” Stiles yelled after his dad as the man walked out of his room. “And apple juice!”

The thumping of feet down the stairs answered his call and Stiles stretched, relishing the fact that his body no longer felt like he was being attacked from the inside. He got up, enjoying the cool breeze as it swirled around him. It was the first time that he noticed he was only wearing his boxers. He looked around the room, noting the pants and shirt he’d been wearing yesterday folded up on his dresser. That wasn’t something he would have done, certainly not something his father would have done while worrying over his sick child.

“What happened last night?” Stiles asked his room, hoping the answer would pop up right in front of him if only he asked. Nothing.

Stiles pulled on his lacrosse shorts, needing something cool as he still felt warm, and picked up his phone from his desk before heading downstairs. He pulled up the conversation with his dad and saw he’d missed multiple texts and phone calls after apparently texting his dad that single word, ‘sick’. 

Apparently those weren’t the only messages he had missed last night. Multiple texts from Allison were sitting unanswered, and one from Scott. He sat down heavily on his bed, really not feeling up to the task of answering anything.

He tried to remember what had happened last night but his memories and dreams were mixing together in such a way that he couldn’t be sure if the fuzzy thoughts were fact or fiction. Stiles closed his eyes and breathed in the fresh Earth scent that the breeze pushed in his open window. He could also smell the heady scent of cooking bread and it was like that tiny scent had awakened the hunger in his body.

His stomach gave a growl and he suddenly felt like his stomach acids were eating a hole in his stomach. He needed food and he needed it right away, along with something to drink. 

He didn’t need his dad yelling up the stairs at him to pull him to the kitchen. His feet had already dragged him halfway down the stairs before it felt like his brain was fully online. He stretched as he stumbled the rest of the way down and to the kitchen, plopping himself down at the table just as his dad set a plate with a slice of toast, liberally coated in peanut butter, at his seat. 

He tucked in, finishing the slice in 5 gigantic bites and waving his hands at his dad to get his attention for more. It felt like he hadn’t eaten in days instead of just the night before, the pizza seemingly gone completely from his system. 

“Pizza?” Stiles found himself wondering aloud.

“You cannot seriously want pizza right now.” His dad gave him a questioning look. “Especially not after you ate almost an entire pizza to yourself last night.”

Stiles shook his head in denial. “No, I did-” He cut himself off. He had eaten pizza, he now remembered that clearly but he also knew he didn’t eat it by himself. He looked around the kitchen trying to force his mind to remember what had happened before his mind had fallen into fever dreams. 

While he was trying to unravel his muddied thoughts he devoured two more pieces of toast, his dad silently making him more food and pouring him more juice once he finished the first glass. 

“Thank you dad.” Stiles remembered his manners.

_Manners!_

It all came flooding back to him. Napping, and ordering pizza; His dad not being home and Peter _freaking_ Hale invading his house and reprimanding him about his manners. 

Stiles could only conclude that Peter must have carried him up to his room and texted his father, the wolf having to find Stiles’ phone where he’d dropped it on the floor. Stiles coloured at remembering that he’d woken up only in his _boxers_. The damn werewolf had undressed him. 

“You feeling alright Stiles? Didn’t eat too much did you?” His dad’s voice sounded concerned.

“Y-yeah.” Stiles coughed. “Just a little warm.” He tried to fan his face but his dad was leaning over to feel his forehead before he had a chance to move his arms. 

“I don’t think your fever is coming back but you need to take it easy today. Your fever, well it was really bad last night. You gave me quite the scare.” The Sheriff got up to run a cloth under cold water, wringing it out before placing it on the back of Stiles’ neck. 

“I haven’t been sick like that since before mom got sick.”

“Yeah, that’s part of what we have to talk about son.” The Sheriff confessed.

“Mom getting sick? Or me getting a fever?” Stiles was confused.

“You didn’t get that fever for no reason.” The Sheriff paused, scratching his chin. “You getting sick has to do with your upcoming birthday.”

Stiles definitely knew his face was telling his father how completely confused he was by the direction this conversation was going. He was going to be 18 in a couple of weeks but he didn’t see why him getting sick had any correlation. 

“Dad you’re really not making any sense. I’m going to be 18, so what? And I just happened to get sick.” Stiles’ voice trailed off. 

“Stiles,” His father looked him straight in the eye. “I know you think you’re alone, that I have no idea of what your mother was, what you are.”

Stiles could only gape at his dad. He felt like his stomach had just dropped into his feet, the floor flying out from under him. Never, in all the years he cried himself to sleep and agonized over his secret, had he ever thought his father knew. He felt tears gathering and he gasped in air. 

His dad clasping his hands had him looking up, not even realising that he’d dropped his eyes to stare unseeingly at the tabletop. Like a spout left on, Stiles watched as tears gathered in his dad’s eyes before tipping over and running down his face. Stiles had not seen his dad cry since his mom’s funeral and watching him now, Stiles could believe that he honestly had not cried since.

The tears kept coming, waterfalling down his dad’s cheeks to splash onto his shirt and pants. Stiles flipped his hands over so he could hold his dad’s hands as they cried together; Stiles at the realisation that he hadn’t been alone in his knowledge all these years and his father in mourning that he’d caused his son great pain by keeping the facts from him.

Long years they had walked by each other, each unknowing in how to interact with the other. Words dying in throats because they didn’t want to reveal too much or open themselves up to questions. Opportunities for bonding missed because camping trips had been ruled out, forest adventures cut off. 

The Sheriff opened his mouth to speak, words clumping together in his throat; Stiles felt the same. Each tear that fell made him feel raw, opening himself up to wonderful and fearful revelations. He squeezed his dad’s hands and relished the strong grip he got in return.

“So, you know?” Stiles managed to force out, eyes never leaving his dad’s face even as his tears clogged his view.

The Sheriff pushed himself away from the table, Stiles whining at the loss of contact, and he walked around the table to pull Stiles into his arms. Stiles went eagerly, needing to be grounded by his dad’s touch in this moment. The Sheriff breathed into his ear.

“I know.”


	5. Flashback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Stilinski remembers how he first came to meet his wife Claudia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story told from John's POV.

_John stumbled his way through the forest after the woman. Three months he had been tracking her and he would not lose her now. Though she seemed to blend in with the trees, the shadows of the branches hiding her from his view, he still caught glimpses of her hair flaring in the light that broke through the canopy._

_She moved with a grace through the underbrush that amazed John. There was a familiarity to her movements, as if she ran the paths through the forest every day. He kept expecting her to stumble over the next hill and trip over the next root, but her feet landed true and propelled her ever onward, continuously just out of his reach._

_He didn’t know her name but he did know her beauty. He felt compelled to catch her and make her his. He shook his head at the thoughts._

_He was following her because she had information regarding the dead body that had been found in the woods, not because he wanted to possess her. He had no idea where that thought had come from._

_As he lost sight of her momentarily he finally understood how she had been evading him these long months. If she lived in the forest, hidden away deep in the confines of the protection offered by the trees, then that was how he’d never found a trace of her when he’d gone to track her down._

_The only interaction he’d had with her until now was when he’d stumbled upon her standing poised over the lifeless body. She hadn’t appeared to be doing anything, just observing it, but the fact that she was standing over it calmly had him wondering if she’d had anything to do with it. She wasn’t the one who’d called the police over finding the body, that had been a man in his late thirties who was still traumatised over finding the body._

_She had just been there. He had approached her, hand on his gun, wary of any sudden movements. He needed have worried over startling her because she turned her head towards him with a look that told John she’d known he was there from the moment he’d stepped past the first tree. At the time he hadn’t registered the look as important but that was a rookie mistake. All the clues had been there but he had been too green to notice, or perhaps too thrown by her beauty._

_John had never felt so captivated by a person, ever, as he was with one look at her. She was shorter than him yet her presence filled the space beneath the trees. She held herself in the darkness with an ease that spoke of many days and nights seeking refuge under the great boughs._

_“Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to step away from the body.” He called out to her._

_He wanted her away from the dead body and by his side. To question her, of course, he had to remind himself._

_“You need not concern yourself in this.” She told him, her voice sinking deep into his mind. He felt himself swaying._

_Everything about the situation was wrong. Even as a sense of peace settled over his mind, John knew that nothing was the way it was supposed to be. The woman should not be witness to such a garish scene as a dead body in the woods. He should have protected her from that. She should not have been forced to take a life, that was his job - he was meant to take the darkness to save her light._

_That thought struck him, waking him from the dazed fog that had overcome his mind. He had no proof that she’d had anything to do with the murder - for it could be nothing less when the body was naked, though no wounds could be seen, and it had been found in the woods. Though the urge to protect her was forefront in his mind, that one thought rang true even as he shook the fog away._

_“Ma’am, I am a police officer. A dead body in the woods concerns me greatly. I’ll ask you again to step away from the body.” John made his voice sound firm, commanding, authoritative._

_She stepped away from the body, three steps, not nearly far enough and John resisted the urge to walk to her side. Her eyes never left his face._

_He opened his mouth to ask her to come towards him when the first drop fell, the coldness of it shocking him. His head whipped up to look into the tree branches and for the first time he realised that the low grade pattering he could hear was rain. He’d been so caught up, and the branches were so densely packed as to create a barrier, that he hadn’t registered the sound for what it really was._

_His momentary lapse had allowed the woman the distraction she’d needed to escape him that day. He’d cursed as he’d realised that he needed to choose between staying with the body or running after her. The increase in the droplets of rain had decided him as his training had kicked in and he’d gone to preserve the crime scene, running back to his car to grab supplies._

_Breaking through the tree line to the car had jump started his brain, reminding him of the need to call in what was going on and ask for backup. He should have had someone with him in the first place but the station was sorely lacking officers and no new recruits were applying.  
He had not forgotten the woman, had even noted it in his report, but there had been no indication that the person had died from anything other than natural causes even with the circumstances surrounding where it had been found, so there had been no need to look for her beyond his own desire to see her. _

_She had plagued his thoughts and invaded his dreams. When he woke he felt like there was something he should be doing but he could never recall his dreams well enough to remember what._

_So he’d searched for her in his spare time. He had a sketch drawn up of her and he carried it around with him when he went looking, asking if people had seen the woman. No one had known who she was and there were no missing persons with her exact description or age parameter in the surrounding counties._

_John had been flummoxed until one day he’d seen her at the edge of the forest when he’d been on his morning jog. Normally he liked the run through the city, enjoying watching as the people woke up the city with smells of coffee and fresh baked pastries. That day, however, he’d woken restless from his dreams and been drawn the take one of the numerous paths through the woods and that’s when he’d seen her._

_He had been parking his car when his lights had flowed over her, still as a statue in the treeline. It had startled him but John had known from that quick glimpse that it had been the woman from the woods._

_He’d quickly hopped out of his car and ran after her but it had seemed to him between one breath and the next she had been gone. He’d run in circles, his eyes squinting in the barely there light for any signs of her but it was like she’d vanished. There weren’t even any footsteps that he could track._

_That glimpse had sparked his need to find her into a raging inferno that drove him every hour he wasn’t at work. He became obsessed with finding her, and the rational part of him - the one seemingly pushed to the back of his mind - told him how crazy he was acting over her. He berated himself during his lucid moments but those were few and far between. Besides, he had no family or friends dragging him back so he was free to pursue this endeavour, no matter how pointless he knew it to be._

_That was how he found himself where he was now, running through the woods after a ghost. He couldn’t force his body to stop, to catch his breath. He was being inexplicably drawn to this figment of his obsession. He knew he would run himself ragged before he gave her up._

_It was as that thought passed through his head that he finally gained some ground on her. It was almost as if his willingness to die finding her had given him an extra burst of strength, of energy. He found himself gaining on her, or maybe she was slowing down.  
He’d been chasing her so long that he couldn’t differentiate anymore. Every step he knew he came closer and closer to her. He breathed in the air she puffed air, her scent ballooning around him. He reached out his fingers to grasp at her and he could feel the heat radiating from her body. _

_He almost didn’t want to catch her, didn’t want her to turn out to be an illusion even if all his senses were screaming that she was real. He knew he had to though. Too long had he dreamed of this moment, been inexorably drawn to it. He wouldn’t give it up now, he couldn’t._

_He grasped her shoulder and almost cried out in relief when it felt warm and real beneath his hand. His relief didn’t last long as forward momentum caught up to him and the two of them went propelling forward._

_He thought to cushion her fall by maneuvering them but he knew they were falling too fast for him to realistically be able to do anything. He hoped she was alright._

_When his back hit the ground his eyes flew open in shock. He had been expecting to land on his side facing the woman and yet that was not what happened. He glanced up and back and found her standing over his head, a frown pulling at her mouth._

_Somehow she’d managed to flip him over her shoulder and he had not noticed. Her grip on his hand was frighteningly strong and, unlike John, she did not appear to be winded at all. He gaped at her._

_He opened and closed his mouth, trying to find his words but all thought processes seemed to have deserted him as got caught in her gaze. John thought she was almost impossibly beautiful, with moles dotted about the parts of her skin that he could see, before he completely lost himself to her._

_“I never thought to have you. I-” She cut herself off from speaking as she observed John. “I left that behind when I agreed to come here. Yet, here you are. How can that be?” She asked but her question only met the silence of the air._

_She dropped John’s hand and stepped around him until John wasn’t having to arch his neck back to look at her. He never once thought to move._

_She knelt down beside him and brought a hand up to caress John’s face. John leaned into the touch, savouring the warmth of her palm when it cradled his cheek._

_“You are incredibly handsome.” She told him and John felt himself warm all over at her proclamation. “You are also so young.”_

_John would have protested that he was older than her, for she looked barely above 20, but his clarity receded again. Her natural scent, a perfume in and of itself, drifted into John’s nose. He felt cleaned by it as it wrapped him in a cocoon._

_“I must confess that I do not know how to proceed. Never did I expect this to happen so I did not plan for it.” She confessed._

_She snapped her fingers in front of his face and John felt himself wake up. Not that he was asleep before but the dream feel of the scene faded and he felt he could move and talk and, most importantly, think again._

_“What didn’t you expect to happen?” He asked her, the first question of many he had for her. He could finally think of them all. “I must confess that I am just as thrown by all of this as you are. I don’t-” John tried to continue but she placed to fingers on his lips to stop his talking._

_“Why don’t you stand and walk with me.” She stood up and held out a hand for John. He took it though he didn’t let her help him up, he just wanted to feel her hand in his - it felt right._

_They walked for minutes, neither saying anything. John had so many questions but he didn’t know how to start until his manners finally made themselves known._

_“I am John, John Stilinski, by the way.” He almost laughed at how shy his voice sounded._

_She stared at him for a moment, not saying anything, before she smiled. “I know.” She laughed and cocked her head at him. “You may call me Claudia.”_

_John smiled at her in return. Her name was lovely lilting out of her mouth. John tried to grasp the sound of it to his mind to remember forever._

_“I sense you have many questions for me John. I have many, for you and myself, and I am afraid I won’t have answers to all of them. However, ask your questions and I will do my best to answer them for you.” Claudia smiled encouragingly at him._

_The problem was, John had no idea where to start with his questions. He had been chasing Claudia for so long, it seemed, that having finally reached her he found himself stumped. He was walking side-by-side with a woman who, up until only a short while ago, he had come to believe was a figment of his imagination. He didn’t know how to proceed._

_“I honestly don’t know where to start.” John confessed. “I’m actually surprised you’re not terrified of me. It must seem to you like I’ve been stalking you since I saw you in these woods three months ago.” John scratched at the back of his neck, ashamed that that really had been the case._

_Claudia let out a tinkling laugh that John found adorable, her cheeks reddened and her eyes sparkled. He had never seen anyone so beautiful._

_“You weren’t supposed to be me that day. I confess, until you called out to me, I had thought myself invisible to your eyes.” Claudia caught his gaze and held it. They stopped walking._

_John knew his mouth had dropped open to gape at her. “How can that be? People do not become invisible.”_

_“People, no.” Claudia’s mouth firmed. She took a deep breath. “You’re right John, people do not become invisible. No matter how I may look to you, the façade of this body that’s confusing your mind, I am not a person. Well, let me clarify. I am not a human.”_

_John felt rooted to the spot. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Claudia truly believed that she was not human, and she expected him to believe her words no matter what his eyes were telling him. Though maybe she didn’t expect him to believe her, as he watched a resigned look overtake her features._

_“I know it is hard to believe but what I tell you is true.” Claudia broke their eye contact._

_John wanted to believe, her grace and beauty had him leaning towards believing her. “What are you then if not human?”_

_John watched as many emotions flowed over Claudia’s face but he couldn't quite get a grasp on any of them._

_“What I am about to tell you not only affects you and me, but it changes the course of this land forever.”_

_John waited. He waited and waited while the minutes ticked by. He knew that if he said anything, interrupted the internal battle Claudia seemed to be facing, that it would break the strange spell that had fallen over the two of them. It seemed surreal to be standing in front of this woman who wasn’t a woman, deep in the forest, hearing that his life was to be forever changed. He was afraid to blink for fear that he would wake up back in his bed, alone, and realise that this had all been nothing but a dream._

_“The moment I reveal my existence to you I will become visible to all mortals. The fact that you can see me, can touch me, proves that the transition is already happening. I can feel it now that I’m looking for it.” She reached between them and grabbed one of John’s hands in hers._

_John looked into her eyes, hoping to convey that she could trust him. He knew with every fibre of his being that he could never betray her, that it would kill him to do so. Perhaps she knew that, perhaps she felt the bone deep - soul deep - connection between the two of them that John could feel. He took a deep breath of his own and grabbed up Claudia’s other hand so that he could anchor her with him. He squeezed her hands._

_Claudia gave him a smile full of trepidation and hope. “I am an Elf from the realm beyond the Nemeton and you, John, are my Protector.”_

_John felt the truth of her words settle over him, the rightness in his soul. He didn’t comprehend what she was saying, not yet, but he knew it to be true. He was meant to protect her._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know in the comments I said I wanted to reveal what Stiles is, and while I do sort of do that, I felt that this flashback was needed for the story. We get to find out more about John's story and Claudia's. 
> 
> Sorry it took me a bit to get this chapter out. The flu hit my house really hard and I'm only just now finally feeling 100% better.
> 
> ~ M

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think.
> 
> ~ M


End file.
